


Coffee, College, and Staring (Sheriarty College AU & Coffeeshop AU)

by DontAsaltSnails



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A bit ooc im sure, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Awkward Romance, Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkward geniuses, Blushing, Body Paint, Coffee, College, Comedy, Dating, Descriptions of Arousal, F/F, Flirting, Fluff, Horny idiots, Jim flirts, M/M, Past Drug Use, Sheriarty - Freeform, Sherlock makes coffee (dont laugh), Students, im trying, jimlock, long fic, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-18 18:29:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8171591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontAsaltSnails/pseuds/DontAsaltSnails
Summary: James Moriarty had only found this small hidden gem of a coffee place while attempting to dodge the huge crowded mob of college students purchasing their much needed coffee before their morning classes. . .This is where he'd find his soon to be favorite brooding barista. Based on a prompt from the lovely sheriarty blog:   BrookIsReal.tumblr.com





	1. The small little shop

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy my Sheriarty fic! :D

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim loves this little shop, but how does he feel for the rude barista behind the counter?

James Moriarty had only found this small hidden gem of a coffee place while attempting to dodge the huge crowded mob of college students purchasing their much needed coffee before their morning classes.

His first visit had been on a Monday morning, he ordered his usual triple-shot espresso french-vanilla latte with cream and (not one) but two sugars whip cream, and of course caramel drizzled on top. He had enjoyed the sugary drink so much that he would come back the next day. However what he hadn't expected was a tall brooding barista to be working the counter with a meticulous way of doing everything and anything. The first time he ordered from this tall and, as cliché as it may be, mysterious barista, James had gotten his usual. It had certainly been an interesting moment: James had chosen to have a smile on his pale face when he greeted the barista. The reply he got was bright dazzling blue eyes meeting his dark ones and then a frown proceeded by, "will you hurry up and order." Jim's smile became more of a smirk, "what? So you can go back to glaring at your costumers?"

"Precisely. What do you want to drink." Neither of them would break eye contact. Their eyes fixated on one another, as if nobody else were in the partially filled shop. "Let's see how you do. I'll take a triple-shot espresso french-vanilla latte. cream. two sugars. whip cream, and caramel drizzled on top. Think you can handle that?"

"Child's play." The barista muttered, before he stepped away and made the coffee. Soft curls bobbed gently with each movement. Jim was transfixed by the odd beauty of it all.. To think he was staring at another person this way. The man was stunning.

"There," the barista placed the drink down in front of Jim. "Take a sip," the bastard was smirking. "Cocky, aren't we?" Jim arched a brow before taking a sip. His eyes closed at the taste. The barista's face even more smug. "Perfect," Moriarty murmured in bliss, he made the drink perfectly. "I know," the man behind the counter spoke flatly.

The  ~~ _cute_~~  bastard.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

From then on, James would always order his drink from that one barista with the soft curly mop on his head and an almost adorable scowl. Moriarty spent days watching the man work. He watched and watched, looking away quickly as soon as his gaze might have been noticed. Every once in awhile soft brown eyes would meet hard blue ones once more. James, of course, jerked his head away as soon as that would happen. His own face feeling hot, how could this be happening? What he hadn't noticed was the barista's own pink cheeks.

From his survellience, Jim learned a few things about his favorite barista. First lesson, the man disliked his customers. If Jim were being honest, he also hated the other customers, but then again they were so ordinary with their slow little minds. People are beyond stupid, he'd muse, except for this barista.  Jim realized why this man looked so damn familiar. He was in a few of his classes. The barista was a student almost always at the top of his class. The man behind the counter, certainly wasn't an idiot nor was he ordinary. Jim could tell. He was bored, just as bored as Moriarty was, and seemingly they both went to the same college and lived on campus.

This.. Sherlock. At first, the barista didn't wear his nametag, but he got in trouble with his manager. Sherlock always did something to make them upset. Actually, he had done nothing but his job with perfect precision, much to Jim's enjoyment. Perhaps he was too smart for them? Yes, that was it. James recognized it. He understood it. Sherlock was different just like him. Thats why he felt a sort of pull towards the man. It was familiarity. Understanding.

What an odd warmth it created.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Stopping by every day, James was in the coffeeshop again. He didn't really need coffee right now, no, but what he did need was to see those dark curls and ice blue eyes once more. He typed away writing his thesis on his laptop, now and then stealing little (sometimes rather long) glances at the grumpy man behind the counter. How dare he be so cute? It was distracting to say the least. Moriarty attempted to get back to work, only to be thinking of the face he was trying to ignore. He certainly wasn't thinking of how sharp those cheekbones were, nor was he thinking of those lips waiting to be kiss-- _Woah_ now. He stopped his thoughts face flushing red; what was he even thinking?!

It was frustrating how this man took over Jim's mental space. He couldn't stop thinking about him.. Even needing to see him everyday. It was borderig obsession, if not already at that point. James sipped his coffee, a shudder running down his spine. This was horrible, the amount of influence Sherlock had over him. Moriarty stole a glance up, his note-taking pen in his hand as he abandoned his computer for a bit. He  didn't see Sherlock anymore, odd, where could he be? Sherlock was standing to the side, still behind the counter, looking over at James, who was a blushing mess. Glancing down fast enough to hurt himself, Jim stared at his notes paper, acting like he had been working and not ogling the work. His notes from class on the thesis were scribbled over by a mindlessly doodled sketch done in blue ink. He drew him. James Moriarty drew Sherlock Holmes on his thesis notes, and to make things even worse, there were little hearts next to the face.

Jim groaned to himself. He couldn't help it honestly. This was more than an infatuation at this point. It was a burning crush. He should go talk to him. He should go talk to him and try to get closer. But how? First, he needs a reason to approach. Jim gulped the rest of his coffee down quick and hopped off his stool in which he had been stalking the poor barista. Scurrying over almost cautiously he made it to the counter. He  leaned on it as he waited for his favorite  barista.

"Hiii," he greeted with soft dark eyes and a smile that could kill. "Could I get a refill on this?"

"Hey, Yeah of course. You always order this.. A man of ritual, hm?"

"I just know what I like," Jim purred trying to sound confident and experienced at talking to people casually. He was a good actor but something told him the man knew better, perhaps even understood the struggle.

"I'm sure you do," the reply came with a small tug of a smile that lasted only half a second, but even that had made all the difference. Jim's heart made a soft flutter and his smile only grew.

"A smile for me, hm?" He teased lightly as the barista made his drink. "I'm Jim, by the way."

"Don't get used to it.. Jim." Sherlock gave a smirk now. Oh, he looked positively adorable James mused happily.

"I won't. I prefer your brooding intellect," Jim grinned. "Just as I prefer your witty replies and constant staring?" The barista leaned on the counter, holding Jim's coffee. He looked so smug with that smile, the Irishman would've loved to slap (or kiss) it off him.

James went to open his mouth and shut it before speaking, "that obvious, hm?" This reply only made Sherlock snicker, "Yep.. Here's your coffee."

"Thanks." Jim murmured looking into the man's pale eyes. He went to pay before being stopped by the barista. "It's on the house, I'll ... catch you later?.."

"Maybe on campus.. See ya' later, cutie." Jim shot Sherlock a wink before walking away with his drink, leaving behind the blushing barista who now muttered something about getting back to work and morons.

James hadn't noticed until he got to his table that the cup had writing on the side that wasn't his name. No, instead it read, "cute gay". Jim flushed red at this. Well, at least he knew he was gay but cute? Absurd. Though Jim couldn't help the smile that just grew and grew on his face as he sipped  his delightfully sweet coffee.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*


	2. Back with more

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James returns to his favorite little coffeeshop (certainly not to see the cute barista).. No not at all, this time he is accompianied by two lovely ladies.. And Sherlock learns that Jim Moriarty is very cute.

  
With the way James was beginning to feel for the barista, it felt like it had taken forever for the next day to come. He had been dying to have a reason to see Sherlock again. This time one of his few real friends came with him. Irene Adler was a small framed woman with sharp beautiful features. She was in a couple of the same classes as James, and had met him a year back through her current girlfriend and his ex, Molly Hooper. That had been a curious time for James. Molly had seemed like a nice girl and he had wanted to so badly be straight. They both lied to themselves trying to fit in, but neither of the two were happy with dating the other. Now, James and Molly are a bit awkward as friends with Irene working as the main glue keeping them even remotely together. It was an odd group, but it worked.

"Is this the place, James? It's so dinky! I'm surprised someone like you even comes here," Irene teased. Jim ignored her commentary, sure Mrs.Hudson's Coffee House seemed a bit different from his usual taste but not that far fetched. Molly gave a small smile as she rested her head on her girlfriend's shoulder.  "She has a point, Jim. I'm a bit suprised myself." The forensics sudent spoke softly, her head still resting on Irene. "Oh, shut up!" James snapped. His ears were warm as he pulled open the door for the two women. Even if they were annoying, manners came first.

"Ooo~ I think we hit a sore spot, " Irene samg with a grin. "Jim," Molly went to start but was quieted by her girlfriend's lips on hers. Molly turned beet red as soon as Irene's scarlet lips had met hers. Jim glanced at the sighing. Great now the entire room was staring at them.. James glared at the two, "Why are you even tagging along?!"

"To meet your new boyfriend, of course!" Irene chirped up, now it was Jim's turn for pink cheeks. "I swear woman, I don't have a boyfriend. Nor do I want one." Jim's face felt hot at Irene's teasing. He knew he was developing feelings for Sherlock, but it was easier just to lie to her. Protect himself and lie. Irene rolled her eyes blantantly not buying his bullshit. "Oh yes, and I'm sure you go out of your way every day just for the coffee." Irene snickered. "Fuck you, Irene." Jim hissed quietly. Adler quickly noted the look of murder burning into his eyes. She mirked widely, "no, sorry James, that's what she'll be doing later." Irene winked at Molly who was even more red now. "Irene--!! Shh.. Poor Jim. Is your boyfriend cute?" Molly quickly added as she tried to ignore what Irene had just said out loud, in front of her ex and the other customers.

"I DON'T HAVE A BOYFRIEND," he yelled in a hushed tone as he walked into the back of his crush. His crush, the barista, Sherlock Holmes, the one with the eyes from Heaven itself. "James, you don't have a boyfriend?" Sherlock asked with a tilted head and a wide knowing smirk. Jim looked up at the man he had so clumisly collided into. "Oh.. Uh.." The Irishman tried to clear his throat, only getting a mocking sound from Irene and a soft chuckle from Holmes. Sherlock couldn't help but add a mental note over Jim's soft hair and adorable pink face.

"He doesn't," Irene added helpfully (and much too quickly for James' taste). "But you said--" Molly was hushed with a gentle kiss from Irene once again. Molly gaped, and Irene noted just how well this tactic seemed to work on Molly. James face was turning pink and Sherlock's cheeks themselves were flushed. The taller man broke eye contact with James, "it was uh.. Nice to see you again." Jim gave a small nod with a dry gulp, "yeah. You, too.." Sherlock smiled at his reply, "I'm off tomorrow. So, you have no reason to stop by." He smirked more. Damn him. James sputtered a moment, "I come here for the coffee," and then proceeded to think 'not just for you..' 

"Oh, I'm sure," Irene teased, "must be some coffee." Molly procceeded to quickly interject, "Irene, please. Can we get coffee? Jim says it is so delicious and I'm so thirsty." Hooper gave a small smile to Jim, who was finally not as pink as before but still pink. "Yes, drinks are in order. That IS why we're here afterall. He wasn't fooling anyone. Sherlock grinned at the blushing Irishman, "of course. Come, I'll take your orders." The barista stepped behind the counter. A smug smirk on his face, "the usual for you James?" A moment of awkward silence. "Yes," Jim narrowed his eyes. _What was he up to? The bastard was trying to prove a point, wasn't he._

"James, do you get whip cream?" Irene started before whispering to Sherlock, "Jim loves licking off cream and other sorts of creamy substances--" Jim's hand clamped over her mouth, "will you SHUT UP!" His face was beet red just like Sherlock's face now was, too. Both men now too awkward or shy to even look at the other. Apparently all the cocky smirks and flirting were more of a facade than originally thought. Irene snickered madly, and her girlfriend finally registered what was said. Molly covered her face with her hands, "Irene whyyy." James moved away from the counter, "I'm going to go grab us a table.. outside. Away from you." He pointed at Irene before continuing, "You two order. Okay." With that Jim fled away from the man who seemed to have such a hold on him. Once Jim was gone, Irene giggled softly and gave her order. Molly sighed and gave hers, both women watched the now awkward, and suddenly silent, barista work.

Sherlock was writing names on the cups. He didn't realize that Irene was watching so intently. She grinned, "If you're going to call him a cute name.. Why not add your number, too?" Sherlock flushed, "I don't do numbers." Irene smirked wider, "fine. Don't make it easy for the poor nerd. It'll be fun to watch him struggle." Molly just watched the two interact. She wasn't sure what she could even say in this moment.

"Thanks for that," Sherlock muttered as he finished the women's drinks. He gave them their orders now looking positively irritated.  "He's a good man, y'know." Molly spoke up, "Jim, I mean. He can seem flirty and ready, but he won't make the first actual move. He's too polite for that. Maybe even too scared of being hurt.. And, uh.. Sherlock,.. He loves the stars, by the way.. He's a big fan of astronomy." She took a breath glancing down shyly, she didn't like speaking to strangers that much, but for Jim.. He deserved it after what he was just through with Irene. "His favorite planet is Pluto. He's been moping ever since it was demoted to a dwarf-planet."

Sherlock looked honestly lost. A dwarf planet? What even was that... And isn't Pluto a planet? Irene then continued interrupting his thoughts, "might make a good first date, you know.. Letting your new boyfriend teach you all about the planets.. Oh, and by the way, you may want to actually pick up a book on astronomy sooner or later.. James can't handle boring men," and with that both ladies left Sherlock standing there stupidly with his mouth agape. He liked the stars? What's there to like about those.. Astronomy is  boring, Sherlock thought. If Jim liked the stars that made him boring.. Right? He'd have to tease James about that silliness sometime, and perhaps read up a bit on this dwarfed planet, Pluto, but _not_ to please Jim or anything.

After the two women left Sherlock couldn't help but think. A small smile found itself on the tall barista's face as he watched the three chatting outside.

A first date, hm? How should he go about asking though.. Sherlock had never thought of dating anyone before. Now that he thought of it, thats why his moronic  schoolmates called him "the virgin".

  
And with that the brooding barista huffed and went back to work, only pausing a moment to think of that cute Irish boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this au, Molly doesn't pre-know Sherlock. Shhhh


	3. You Can't Sleep There!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Jim are now in their classes, and why would someone sleep on a bench in the midde of campus?

  
A Friday morning.

James found himself bored in class once again. It wasn't that the topic was uninteresting, no, it was that he already knew the information the teacher was droning on and on over. He sighed softly before glancing around the room at the other students. God, they were so stupid. He smirked, they were all struggling as usual, except himself, of course. Oh, and him. It was him. Sherlock Holmes, in his class? How could he forget. They shared two Friday classes. Jim stared at the back of Sherlock's head almost dreamily. He was in a terrible trance, amazed by soft curls bouncing slightly as his head moved. Jim's spacey state was so bad, he didn't even notice when Sherlock slowly turned to glance back at him, giving him a wide smirk. Jim couldn't help the soft pink now on his cheeks nor the involuntary need to look away quickly. Suddenly, the wall was much more interesting, he tried to ignore the blue peaking eyes watching him.

After class, Jim did his usual free period ritual; he sat down on a bench on campus and guzzled down an extra-large cup of coffee. He never slept enough and always ran on terrible lacking amounts of sleep. He struggled to rest properly. He hated that he was currently dozing off to the brisk air and warm coffee even now. He fought to stay awake in vain, failing horribly once he passed out into a restless dreamless sleep.

Sherlock was taking a walk through the campus when he spotted the napping Irishman. How could he go about sleeping like that? Sherlock hurried his pace over to the man sleeping.. alone.. out in public. He wasn't quite sure what to do. Should he wake Jim up? Would that be considered rude? His friend John was always lecturing him about societal manners. He furrowed his brows, certainly its worse to leave him here undefended. He looked so soft and innocent, something Sherlock knew was incorrect, James wasn't innocent. There was just something about him.. That spoke of darkness he would yet speak of. Even with this, he tilted his head still watching, how could a human look so.. Perfect? In itself, the human race was far from perfection, each with their own flaws (which normally Sherlock would love to point out). These flaws however only made up the perfection the young man saw in Moriarty, somehow all of his quirks and imperfections only brought the part-time barista something to smile for. Sherlock shook the line of thought, and gave Jim a hurried tap on his shoulder. "Jim.." he spoke in a calm hushed tone.

A quiet murmur came from the lips of the still sleeping student. Sherlock blushed, he was being cute, and all the man could think about was kissing James now. No, that was most likely a bad thing to do. Most likely. He wasn't fully sure, if he were honest. The thought of just kissing him lingering longer than it should have. Finally, he gave Jim a gentle shake, "Jim." What he got in reply was a terribly sad sound. James had replied now in a panicked sleep, "n-nO NO." James Moriarty obviously suffered nightmares, he noted, and seemingly was prone to sleep talking. Sherlock frowned, now he wouldn't admit it but he was worried, "JIM." He shook him again a bit harder. Eyes fluttered open and Sherlock's blue eyes were met with brown ones. "O-oh its.." Jim cleared his throat finally awake, "it's you, Sherlock." Sherlock raised a brow at the other student who was looking down at his feet. "You were asleep. Not exactly safe in the middle of the campus, you know that right?" Jim stared at Sherlock with almost a blank look, before Sherlock continued, "of course, you chose an area with low traffic but that also removes your safety of witnesses."

Jim gave a nod, "yeah. I.. was going to study for a test.. And you know college.. Sleep deprevation and all that." Well, that sounded horribly awkward and was obviously a lie. James was still thrown off from being awoken like that. His eyes still staring deep into pale ones. Moriarty was certainly out of it, almost as if he were both spaced out and fully there. Holmes noted this, he had watched James as much as he was watched himself, and James certainly disassociated a lot it would seem. Sherlock shook his head, "Of course. Of course," he decided to leave that be. He had no reason to pry.. Not when this man looked so worn out.. Not when he could easily do it later.

The next and final class for the day went rather smoothly. James ended up doodling more than actually paying attention, and Sherlock found himself staring into the back of Jim's head. He had tried to see what the man was drawing, but the way James' hid his paper, there wasn't any way to tell, unfortunately. Afterwards, Jim had started heading back to the dorms. Irene had invited him to a party, she wanted him to 'let loose'. Annoying. He just wanted to go home and sleep. Sleep sounded so lovely to James Moriarty. However, noticing another set of steps made him pause a moment. He was being followed, but then again he knew who his stalker was. Now at the dorms, on his way inside the dormatory, Jim bumped into his roommate, Sebastian, a partial friend he had paid to help him perform series of pranks on the school during past Halloweens. Sebastian however barely said hi as he was hurrying on his way out swearing, something about drinking and a party.  Must be the same party most of the students are at, the same Irene had spoken of. Moriarty had been at his fair share of parties, but why would he ever want to party if he had such a wonderful new playmate? A playmate that was so obvious in stalking; it made Jim snicker madly. Now at his room, 314, James rolled his eyes, opened his door and grinned, "oh no, I'm all alone in here. I think my little stalker should show himself.. Don't you think, Sherlock?"  And there he was. Sherlock stepped through the door a smile on his face, "I was walking to my room, too, you know. It's a bit past yours."  Jim raised a brow, "liaaaar. You stalked me." A wide smirk on the shorter man's face. "Was I now?" Sherlock queried back.

"You were meant to go to that party Moran was running off to. Meet up with your little friends.. Your roommate wanted you to go, am I right?" Jim smirked widely, knowing his quick deduction was correct. John Watson by reputation, loved women and parties, it would seem. "John has no control over my decisions," Sherlock muttered. James paused knowing he was correct now, he spoke, "Oh, I see now, John Watson, am I correct?" A delayed response, Sherlock was enjoying this himself, "you are."

Jim added a another question that was more of a statement than anything. "He wants to be in the army, doesn't he?" Sherlock rolled his eyes, child's play. "Hm, it would seem, so would Sebastian Moran." Jim grinned and tucked a hand into the pocket of his pressed pants. "Touché," he smiled eagerly. "Good to see you pay attention."

"You already knew I do.. Pay attention," Sherlock stressed those final words.

"Oh, did I now? Did you enjoy your view then? From behind I mean. You were staring at my ass, weren't you?" Sherlock flushed red at his words. He wouldn't admit anything of the sort, but yes.. His eyes had wandered, from head to back to ass. Sherlock blushed more, he had to admit although bodies, let alone bottoms, had never meant much to him at all; James, however, had a nice firm bottom squeezed just right into those slacks of his. Oh, god, quiet your mind Sherlock..

"You dirty dog, you." Jim teased watching the flustered student across from him switch mental gears over and over.

"Shut up."

"Why don't you make me."

Then, awkward silence. Both men staying in there spots. Silently learning eachother. Sherlock noting the indentions on Jim's fingers, minor calluses growing there, he must have been a traditional artist at one point and recently started again, that's what he was doing during class. He held his pencils too tight, a sign of not wanting to lose control ever, even of himself. James was a hard read otherwise, except for small physical notes. Small and slim, pampered himself when he had time. Dark eyes from a lack of sleep, obviously that's why he wasn't able to stay awake earlier. Suffers from nightmares and insomnia, big coffee drinker but loves it sweet. He must like dressing nicely, but isn't from a family with money. He worked his way to this school by grades, not from a privledged past.

Simultaneously, James was sizing Sherlock up. He didn't care about his appearance, yet melodramatic enough to wear a scarf. Soft curly hair, cold calculating eyes, lips made by the gods themselves. He was tired also, tired physically and with society. A punk in the general sense of the term. A bit like Jim himself. The smell of nicotine radiating off of him. Sherlock smoked, interesting. His family wouldn't like that, certainly not his older brother. Jim smiled. Oh, he had a complex with his brother. Was he always in his shadow, perhaps? And those long delicate fingers, he plays an instrument, he was sure. James pondered a moment, a stringed instrument, nothing too obvious, not a guitar, no. A violin would suit Holmes, Jim's smile formed into a grin.

"What do you think, wanna sum me up in one word, big boy?"

"One word? That's easy."

"I'm waiting, Holmes."

"Remarkable."


	4. Deduction Dorm Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! 
> 
> So, the boys are in Jim's room. His room mate is at a party leaving both men staring at each other. What could these two get up to?

  
"Remarkable."

James wished he could say he hadn't felt a flutter in his stomach at that word. He had expected something of the sort, but not a word of such a high degree. Jim looked away being the first to break eye contact, he felt his cheeks warm.

Sherlock glanced around the room after their little stare down. He needed a distraction away from the man he wanted to well.. Kiss, pull against him, and even  _experiment_ with. Posters of constellations decorated the walls on Jim's side of the room. The other side covered in American movie posters and bands. Boring. Sherlock couldn't help but roll his eyes. His gaze drifted up as he noticed constant discolorations moving towards the ceiling of the dorm room. His gaze flickering to Moriarty once again, "spots?" Sherlock questioned furrowing his brows.

"Oh that.. It's nothing," Jim sighed, "You'll only find it boring. You can go now." Jim had heard a lot about how boring Sherlock found astronomy. Sherlock arched a brow. He had just been studying something that looked quite a bit like the paint of those odd markings... But what. He closed his eyes and it hit him within seconds, it was a chemical, "strontium aluminate." Jim raised a brow, oh goodness.. He was smart, wasn't he? Able to identify a chemical just by looking at it? His heart began hammering a soft beat in his chest. The forensics student continued his deductions, "Which is in glow-in-the-dark substances.. So, why glow-in-the-dark paint? What does it mean, Jim? Writing secret messages to someone? No, these patterns are too abstract. Too out of place. What is _it_?" He got no such reply from James, who was staring in quiet awe at the beauty of his deduction. A grin formed on the Irishman's face at the accusations, "tsk tsk, a secret message? What am I some sort of criminal mastermind?" Sherlock stepped over to the door and switched off the lights. The forensics student looked up with a smug look.

The smugness died as soon as it appeared. Random dots? He furrowed his brows. A pattern, perhaps? What were those supposed to be? He didn't even realize that the other man was biting into his hand to avoid laughing. Sherlock was trained onto possible deductions like a bloodhound sniffing for clues. Frustratingly, none of the connections he was making made much sense. Oh, it hit him. James likes stars. Then stars, maybe? Sherlock didn't know the constellations.. He tossed out useless information like that. How could he make a deduction about this, and if he were wrong.. What would James think of him? His became face hardened in deep thought, that is until his concentration was broken by full laughter.

Apparently James couldn't hold it back any longer.  
"OH. MY. GOD. You don't know the constellations? That one there's the Big Dipper, you moron. I think even a toddler could see that," Jim was doubling over in laughter now at Sherlock's quickly reddening face. "Why do you even have them up there, hm?" The flushed man retorted, obviously embarrassed. "They aren't interesting.. Stop laughing!" Sherlock felt so embarrassed, he was defeated. At least his final deduction was correct.. "They help me sleep," Jim stated with honesty, trying to stop the now small giggles erupting from him. Warmth burning his ears as he looked at the embarrassed man. For some unknown reason, he wanted to tell Sherlock everything. He wanted to relate and be close to someone, perhaps it was trust. Perhaps it was. "Can't you just take something for your insomnia?"

"No," Jim said his reply firmly, he said it in a way that made Sherlock not want to press into that conversation, yet. Is this what it's like to like someone, to actually like someone as a person you wish to be close to? You're willing to take your time learning them rather than deducing everything? Or was it the urge to press their lips to yours despite them just laughing at your lack of knowledge? Shaking the thoughts, Sherlock changed subjects, "did you paint them up there?" Then there was a long pause before James spoke, "I did." Sherlock looked at the marks painted above, "I used to love painting.." Sherlock interjected, "then, why did you stop?" James frowned, "I became bored." Sherlock arched a brow, "now who's the liar?" The reply he got did nothing to answer his question, "I /had/ stopped art.." James looked at the painted stars, "those are off. That one should be closer to this one.." he pointed at the illustration above showing precisely where certain stars, should just be moved over by barely a fraction of an inch. The way Jim looked at the ceiling, at the minor details, showing admiration and dedication to the things he found most beautiful. The perfections that were the stars. While Sherlock stared in utter awe at the man in front of him, at the beauty that was James Moriarty.

Sherlock looked down, he noticed a crumpled paper stuffed under Jim's bed. He bent over picking it up. "What do you have there?" James asked rather awkwardly actually, he didn't like people going through his things. A fear growing in the pit of his stomach like a black hole, he had a feeling what that was. Sherlock opened the crinkled paper up and looked at the sketch in detail. To Holmes, it looked exactly correct, it looked just like what he saw every day. It was a drawing of him, Sherlock Holmes. It had frantic messy notes next to the drawing, which read, _not good enough. Terrible. Not even close to the original perfection._ Sherlock blushed and Jim glanced away. Perfection, Certainly not, if anybody were closer to perfection it would be James. "Cat got your tongue, Sherlock?" That snapped him out of his thoughts, "this." James bit his lip a moment as the taller man showed him his artwork, "oh, that. It's rubbish." Was he blushing? Yes, yes he was, Sherlock noted.

"May I see your other works?" Sherlock queried. "Of course not." Jim glanced down, "I don't have _any_  other works.." His face was a pale pink, and suddenly he became a terrible liar. Sherlock snickered softly, "could I request you to paint something for me then?" Jim shifted his glance slowly to Sherlock, brown eyes staring intensely, "what do you want me to do?"

"Paint me a tattoo."

"What, why? It won't even stay on long."

"It'll irritate, my brother." Sherlock smiled. James snickered, a smirk forming, "fine. Where do you want it?"

"My lower back." Sherlock shared his own smirk, James lost it snickering madly. "You want a tramp stamp? Dear me, Holmes. Dear me."

"Will you do it?"

"Of course."

"Now?"

"Let me get my paints."


	5. Jolly (almost) Roger-ing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cold wet paint, heat against sensitive flesh, and tensions arise.

" _Let me get my paints_ ," rang through Sherlock's mind as the light-weighted Irishman sat on him painting his flesh. Sherlock hadn't realized how hard it would be not to move as the wet brush gently lapped at his suddenly tender flesh. Then again, perhaps the thought of who was on top of him didn't help either. Sherlock shifted, that newest stroke sent shivers down his spine. It took everything the man had not to let out a soft gasp. Jim bit his own lip before mumbling a curt, "don't move, I'm working here.." There were a few reasons he was getting irritated, the main reason being the arousal that was blooming a burning heat from his ears down to a certain problematic area. A certain area that may or may not have been growing hard pressed against his fellow student's arse. Who knew painting skin could feel so erotic?

The soft cold brush danced along it's warm canvas, successfully coloring careful sections of Sherlock's lower back. Both men tried to ignore their brewing filthy thoughts. Sherlock decided to focus on how this had started, ah yes, pissing Mycroft off. He stayed on that track, attempting to stay away from his dirty dreams. Pissing off Mycroft.. Wasn't that always the reason the for why the younger Holmes brother got into trouble? Either way, Sherlock's mind drifted. It drifted back to the man putting lovely pressure and warmth onto him. Before, Jim was a bit too excited to get his paints. Sherlock blushed, and perhaps he himself was a bit too excited to say he wanted a detailed Jolly Roger as a tattoo, too. He never had gotten over that specific childhood obsession. He hadn't even realized the way he wiggled against the poor Irish boy's groin, nor did he fully realize the sound he made when dull nails dug into his flesh with a whispered, "quit it!" Sherlock's thoughts and current distraction however were interrupted when he felt something hard awkwardly prodding against his bottom. The awkward something felt like it was attached to an awkward someone, who was now breathing at a slightly labored pace. Sherlock's eyes widened as he realized what, or should I say who, was rubbing so eagerly against his back. Both students stiffened (pun fully intended). Jim closed his eyes tight as he heard Sherlock take a sharp breath, fuck him.. Well, okay that would actually solve this current issue of theirs. If James were honest with himself that is, instead he shook the dirty thoughts that were only sending the wrong signals to his rather stiff hard-on. Sherlock finally managed to speak, be it in a flustered and hushed tone, "J-James, is that what I think it is?" Jim gave a breath before speaking, "shut it and stop trying to deduce me."

"Deduce or in this case seduce?" They both actually snickered at that despite their current predicament. "James, is it what I think it is?"

"Maybe it is.." Jim went to move from his rather awkward (though not quite disappointing) position. At least attempting to end the poking he was giving the poor man underneath his weight.

"Wait-- I never said you had to stop.." Sherlock started with a slight whimper at the shifting and movements of the man above him. Now, there was more cruel pressure on his own length, which sadly, he was laying on.

Before Moriarty was able to answer Sherlock's newest information, the door to the dorm room flung open. Sherlock and Jim jumped and stared at the door, both too aroused and caught to be able to sputter out any sort of coherent sentence, let alone an explanation. Then again, they hadn't needed to say anything being that the wasted Sebastian Moran stumbled into the room not even noticing either men in his inebriated state. The tall blonde flopped into his bed muttering drunken slurs as he passed out almost right away, leaving the other two students staring like dual deer in headlights. Hearts pattering against their chests, Jim finished the tattoo within seconds and stood. He wouldn't look at Sherlock nor would Sherlock even glance at him. Their faces were heated, arousal still sported, and awkward silence stuck in the thickened air as Sherlock scurried out of the room. Jim watched Sebastian a moment before jumping to quickly close the door behind the now tramp-stamped student. From there the horny student slid down the door and groaned loudly. His heart pattering in his chest. He couldn't believe it. That had almost led to.... Jim closed his eyes, no no. THAT would have been a mistake, Jim doesn't fall in love. He plays games. Just like he doesn't find people sexually attractive.. Right?

So, then why was he so terribly hard for Sherlock Holmes? Why was this becoming a common occurrence? His mind was tired and he was at a loss. How could he trust a man he barely knows like this? Almost going so far as to....

"Fuck me," if only Sherlock had, his mind added helpfully, yet argued with itself of the mistakes he could have made this night. Mistakes that brought back _nasty_ memories.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Meanwhile, Sherlock stumbled back to his own dorm room. Breath a bit labored, cheeks flushed, pupils still dilated, arousal well showing, and Sherlock hadn't felt this good in a long time. With a reaction like this who needed experiments in the world of recreational narcotics? Sherlock snickered to himself, if only they had continued.. He was sure he'd be feeling even higher. He couldn't hold in the delightful feeling, he gave a jump of excitement. This was a new feeling surging through him, something a person had never made him feel.. He was so alive! That's when the dorm lights turned on and a very cross John showed himself in the room. " _Sherlock_! First you're a no-show to the party, and now you come home at 3:30 in the fucking morning?!" The doctor-in-training complained. Sherlock rolled his eyes, he adjusted his coat a tad hiding his boner as much as possible. "Relax John." The look Watson gave Sherlock was hilarious, "relax? How can I relax? Were you out doing.. y'know.. Drugs again? Mycroft told me.. you.. That you used to sneak out."

"I wish you didn't speak to my brother really.. and I'm not high." Sherlock replied calm but irritated at the lack of trust. Apparently even his best friend couldn't trust him or his attempts to stay sober. He couldn't help but wonder a moment, how would Jim feel about his drug usage. "Sherlock, your eyes are dilated! Now why would that be?" The shorter man countered. Sherlock spoke without much thought, no reason to lie was there? "Because, John. I am aroused, or in case you don't understand. I'm horny. Sporting wood as your precious porn would put it. But thank you John for checking in on me.. I'm sure you've enjoyed your time playing mother and _not_  getting laid, which is the _ONLY_ reason you're here tonight." Sherlock spat in a hidden rage. Watson stared with wide eyes, "o-oh, Sherlock I'm sorry I uh-" But then Sherlock cut him off. "No, please John want to have a look?" The dark-haired man spat making a gesture to open his coat and reveal the topic of their discussion.

"God no, Sherlock. No, I don't want to see. I'm not gay, Sherlock. Fuck, I'm sorry for..... hounding you. You're allowed to do whatever it is you were doing." John finished. "Good," Sherlock smiled at his win. But that was before John spoke again, "or _who_ ever you were doing." Sherlock glanced at John, "I _wasn't doing_   _anyone_." John muttered to himself, "right.. Right.. no human contact just like a machine, I remember. Christ." That hadn't gone by missed by Sherlock, he always heard the things people said to themselves.. This was part of the reason for his alienation and loneliness since childhood.. Jim never did that to him.

Sherlock went to go to bed, almost fully clear of nagging without too much extra hassle. He took off his coat, hanging it onto the back of a chair. His final mistake of the evening was this: Sherlock bent down to pick up his skull. He always slept with the skull, John thought it was weird... But what was even weirder was the skull and crossbones staring back at him from the skin that showed when Sherlock's shirt lifted at the movement.

"Is that.. Is that a tattoo? A bloody tramp stamp?" John sputtered.

"Go to sleep, John." And with that Sherlock clicked off the lights leaving his completely shocked room mate, and best friend, in the darkness alone.


	6. The Blanket of Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Swearing, talking about sexuality, a few rude comments, and astronomy. 
> 
> Sherlock discovers a bit about Jim's history! :D

A week went by before the two boys saw each other again. After the incident the other night Jim stopped visiting the coffee shop where Sherlock worked. He needed to figure out exactly what was wrong with him, which in itself only made the Irishman feel worse. Why did this man have to even exist? Stupid Sherlock, making Jim feel all ordinary.. _How rude._

For Sherlock, he went to work the days he was meant to. He ignored the other students as usual and stayed cold and calculating. Er-- well, he tried, but that Moriarty slipping back into his mind. That soft black hair, those large dark eyes, the smile that made Sherlock's stomach swirl, and worse than that: his mind. God, that mind.. Sherlock couldn't help the small shudders that happened when he imagined Jim, all that Jim could do or say. It was terrible, and yet, Sherlock felt almost at complete ease with himself and these developed feelings. Even with the teasing James gave him; it never once felt the same as how the comments of others felt. The hushed words that were muttered as Sherlock would walk by, "freak," was the most common. James was different, however. Perhaps he should go find the little short arse.

Jim closed his eyes, he was sitting and listening to Irene chatter on about her girlfriend. They were supposed to eat lunch and go back to their dorms to relax, but Moriarty should have known better when it came to Irene. "Molly aced her tests! She was so worried, but I knew better. Y'know what they say, James, Brainy is the new sexy~" Jim's gaze was glazed over in thought. He was barely listening, if he were honest, yet one sentence struck his mind well. Brainy's the new sexy, hm? Maybe that's why Sherlock made him want to rip his clo-- Irene's smooth tone interrupted that train wreck of a thought, "James are you listening? You have that smirk again. Your usual filthy one." Jim snapped back, "I do not make filthy faces!" Irene grinned wickedly, "you sure do. Especially while fantasizing about that boy. How is he, James?" Jim looked down, "I wouldn't know nor would I care. I haven't seen him for a week.." _Liar_ , Jim's mind called on him faster than Irene could, of course he cared, that was the problem. Irene looked softly at Jim. "Lovers' spat?" she asked in gentle tone. "Are you slow? How many times do I have to say it-! We are not lovers!" Irene snickered softly, "then what's wrong? You look like a princess taken away from her prince." Jim groaned covering his face, "fuck off, will you?"

"No. So if you two aren't together.. What's the problem? Or is that it, you want to kiss him don't you, Jimmy?" The nickname made Jim slam his hands down on the table, eyes glinting darkly, "don't call me that." Irene rolled her eyes, "Right, sorry James," she mocked, "please talk to me. You're my friend, and I know I'm one of the only of yours. Talk to me so I can help." Jim looked down at the table once more, "..We might have.. almost.." He licked his dry lips attempting to wet them.

Irene's face hardened quickly, "James, did he do anything to make you uncomfortable?" Jim stared at her, "No god no, don't be stupid. Sherlock wouldn't. Sherlock couldn't do.. that." Irene eyed him suspiciously, "alright, so you two aren't even dating yet you almost fooled around?" Jim groaned giving up, "it's hard to explain, okay?" Irene giggled, "James, when did you get so cute?" James sat back in his seat, "shut up." His cheeks were warm. "I'm not cute, remember that. I'm more dangerous than you could imagine." He glanced away huffing.

"Sure, I forgot you're capable of murder," she rolled her eyes. " _I could be_!" James huffed one last time, how dare she! Irene knows nothing about him, not really. Jim stood taking his jacket angrily, "I'll see you again. Never." He turned to storm off, his wrist being caught in a delicate yet stern hand, "Jim, I know you're in love. It's obvious. You look at him like he's the stars, your stars" Jim ripped his arm away, "I'll have you know that I'm very capable of murder, _AND_  have had my fair share of experience with screwing men. You're not the only one capable of sleeping around." Well, that was a bit of a lie. Jim only had one relationship, if you want to call it that, which was really just a sexual stress reliever of mutual gain. Before that, James spent time questioning his sexuality; even earlier of his life Jim went through a terrible experience with one other person. An experience he blocked from his mind, unlike the last one he had with Sherlock... Which keeps replaying, with alternate (dirtier) endings.

"Yeah, thanks for that." He muttered as he left, feeling only worse than he had earlier that week. He knew only one thing would cheer him up after this rubbish he had to deal with. Feelings and- and- Sherlock.

But he'd have to wait til night.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Meanwhile, Sherlock knocked on the door of Jim's dorm. He couldn't stop thinking about the Irishman. The student stood at the door waiting running through his excuse mentally: Sherlock came over just to let Jim know that Mycroft had a full shitfit over the tramp stamp, even going as far as to show their mum. This of course didn't work well because by the time he could show Mrs.Holmes, well, the paint had fully washed off and left no mark of said tattoo. Mycroft had been furious, mostly because he couldn't tell enough details to notice it was paint through Skype.

The door opened to a large tanned blonde man, Sebastian Moran, Jim's room-mate possible friend. "Oh, you're that weird kid," Seb greeted rudely. "Sherlock Holmes. Moran, is James here?" Sebastian crossed his arms and leaned on the doorway, "nah, Jim isn't here. Now, it's my turn for a question." Sherlock glared at the man, icy eyes boring into oceanic ones, "fine. Make it quick." Sebastian grinned, "You like him don't you?" There was a moment of awkward silence. "What does it matter to you?" Sherlock sounded annoyed. "Well, being that I'm one of Jim's best friends, and his ex, you could say I'm a curious party." Sherlock studied him a moment, there was no way he could have been with Moriarty, ".. you're not his ex. James is inexperienced with this sort of.. situation, and as for you, I simply can't believe your his type whatsoever." Sebastian laughed heartily, "pretty stupid for a genius, huh?" Sherlock furrowed his brows, "James has had no romantic connections, anyone could tell that from looking at him" Sebastian's eyes glinted with mischief, "well, yeah we weren't dating perse. But I guess former fuckbuddy might be a better term for you there, genius boy. Then again, should you be talking, virgin? Isn't that what they call you around campus?"

Sherlock stared back at the taller man, he had no reason to back down. His gaze holding its sharp edge, "how long were you two fuck buddies?" Moran smirked now, he thought back a moment before replying in his American accent, "well, I'd say a few months. It wasn't an everyday thing either, I think we screwed mostly when he couldn't handle things anymore. That guy can be a frantic ball of anxiety, and a little shit in bed--" Sherlock's expression made Sebastian pause, "..Uh, that must have been awkward to hear. Sorry.." Sherlock sighed at the apology, "just shut up, how long?" It was Sebastian's turn now to furrow his brows, "how long what?"

"How long since you two were fuck buddies, in your words," Sherlock's gaze now felt burning to the American. "A little over a year. Hey! You're jealous aren't you?" Sebastian chuckled, oh it was obvious Sherlock felt jealousy tearing him apart inside. Now, he understood why John hit people. "I'm not," Sherlock rolled his eyes, he failed at lying about Moriarty even to Moran. "Look, Jim is really pissy right now, and I'm sure he's gone to go space out. I don't know where he is, or what he's doing but he's not going to come home tonight. Days like this he doesn't sleep here." Sherlock only raised a brow, his mind running through options. With this new information he tried to ignore the imagery of James with another man.

Sebastian looked almost awkward for a moment, realizing what Sherlock must have thought he spoke quickly, "but I know he doesn't like whoring himself out to strangers. Jim isn't a one-night stand kinda guy. You could check the library or the park. I've helped him with breaking into the library after dark." Sherlock gave a curt nod and went to leave, only managing a few steps before Moran spoke one last time, "oh and uh, good luck." With that Sebastian closed the door, and Sherlock went to find Moriarty.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

The stars gleamed and sparkled over the dark grassy park. It was clear tonight and the sky looked as if all its secrets were spilled out, revealing itself in beautiful glittering lights. Jim laid in the grass, his expression looked empty, yet his eyes told another story. They shined back to the night sky filled with such an adoration, it was that very look Sherlock Holmes had begun to dream about every night. Quiet ruffles of grass being tread on told Jim everything he needed to know in that moment, his gaze staying on one star. That one spot, a fixed point: a constant, he waited a moment before speaking finally, "you don't have to ask you know, I'm afraid I might always say yes to you." His vision never shifting.

Sherlock gave a small smile, stepping over and sitting down next to James, "and here I thought I was the only annoying twat." It was a joke, one successfully landed being that Jim laughed softly. "You don't say?" His dark gaze finally sliding onto the man next to him. "Why are you here?" Sherlock asked quietly, he found his knees more interesting than the sky it would seem. "You already know why. Who ratted me out? Irene?" A wisp of silence and then an answer, "Sebastian Moran." Jim turned back to the freckled beauty above, "oh." Sherlock frowned a moment, "you're a hard read, James Moriarty." Jim glanced at him, "and you're an easy one. So?" Holmes rolled his eyes, "I'm not."

"Really? I think you should play for me some time." Sherlock snuck a glance now at Jim, of course, somehow he knew he played the violin. He never even saw his dorm.. His heart gave an involuntary flutter. So was this feeling why John was so amazed at his amateur deductions? "See, I said youuuu were eeeeasy," James sang almost mockingly, yet it was also soft and warm. Odd. "You've been with Sebastian," Sherlock suddenly stated. He would never admit it, but somehow the idea of that blonde oaf sweating over Moriarty did caused an uproar of jealousy to Sherlock. "Well, yes we're friend-- oh, you mean _that_. Yes, we've 'been together'. Numerous times, I suppose." Sherlock grimaced, that didn't make him feel any better, yet here he asked for more, "when were you going to tell me?" James stared at Sherlock, his mouth agape, "we aren't dating dear, I didn't think I _needed_  to tell you." Sherlock's mouth made a straight line as Jim spoke more, "besides darling, it was _only_ sex. That's it."

"Would I have been only just sex?" A second time, James found his mouth open like a fish, "who said we were going to have sex?" Sherlock looked down, "I didn't mean it like that.. I just.." Jim glanced away quickly, "jeez virgin, relax. Yes, I've had sex. No, I wasn't going to fuck you the other night; I'm not like that. Tiger was different, that was an experiment of sorts. We knew each other for a while and well.. It could be called a mutual test. Or as I've named it, a failed experiment." Sherlock stared ahead, the sudden nickname making him want to switch topics again. "Which is your favorite?"

"My favorite _what_?" Jim asked, he was a bit irritated at the sudden change in conversation. "Planet, I guess." Moriarty gave a snort at the grumbling man, "I thought astronomy was boring?" He spoke in a mocking tone. "Shut up and just answer before I leave." That actually shut the Irish boy up for a moment, "Pluto. Pluto is my favorite. Although, now it's a dwarf-planet, thanks to a certain someone." Sherlock blinked, a dwarf planet? What even was that?

James rolled his eyes, "god, a dwarf planet is a celestial body that looks like a small planet. However it's lacking in the technical departments that would allow it to be called an actual planet. But I swear, that is the only thing I disagree with, Pluto will always be a planet.. In my heart or, really, my lack of a heart." Sherlock nodded, "and it takes its name after the Roman god. Which in itself is taken from the Greek god Hades." James laughed suddenly, making Sherlock ask, "what now?" Jim giggled a bit more, "so you're saying, you read about gods, but never actual fucking science? Wow, Sherlock. A new level of classy." Sherlock blushed, not even in embarrassment, somehow James didn't make him feel embarrassed. No, he blushed because that laughter was perfection, and that smile.. Oh, that smile was even better than perfection. "I used to wish Hades would just grab me," Jim frowned slightly, "it would have been better than growing up in my house."

Sherlock sighed, he took the chance, wrapping his arms around Jim's waist and tugging him closer until he almost sat in his lap. "H-Hey!" Jim struggled a moment until he was flopped against the warm chest of his not-lover. "Let me be your Hades, then" Sherlock mumbled, Jim flushed slightly. Why did that have to sound so sweet and disgustingly ordinary? Jim looked up and went to whine, but he wasn't really able to being that warm lips met with his. Soft and quick, it took James a full five seconds to realize he was kissed, nor did he even realize that his face had the dumbest smile on it. He did however feel his heart skip a beat, and the way his stomach swirled as he stared at the man who kissed him.

Sherlock stared ahead, "I don't want it to be just sex, Jim."

The Irish boy gave a small nod and closed his eyes, "I don't think I could do that with you." He hated the absolute honesty he gave to Sherlock. James felt warm and safe in Sherlock's arms. "I used to say I was  asexual. Asexual and aromantic," his Irish drawl spoke quietly in the silent night. Sherlock understood, he had at one point, identified himself as aromantic asexual, but then James had to pop into his life. Now, Sherlock himself knew he wasn't. Despite the new silence, there was an air of acceptance and true understanding.

"You had a boner for me," this sudden statement made Jim giggle madly. "Oh god, you're right.. And you dear had one for me, but.. I didn't always get ' _boners_ ' for you." Sherlock snickered, "yes, I know. Have you thought of demisexual?" Jim gave a nod, "yes, but I'm terrified the term Sherlocksexual might fit better.." Sherlock stared down at the man in his arms, "I think I may prefer that term." Sherlock's heart beat hard in his chest at the thought of who was in his arms and between his legs. Laying there on the grass, alone, at night. It wouldn't be hard for either of them to-- Both minds thinking the same thing, and then Jim coughed, "anyways, what's your favorite?" He sputtered. "Oh um, the sun?" Sherlock honestly barely gave it a thought, his mind still charged from the previous ideas lurking in his filthy brain. " _The sun is a star you dolt_ ," Jim giggled, "we should play strip astronomy class, you'd lose."

"Shut up," Sherlock smiled giving a quick peck to Jim's head. "Y'know, I tried to hate you." Sherlock chuckled, "I tried to hate you, too. But I failed just as you failed yourself. We aren't much of geniuses if we're going to ignore this pull between us." James smirked, "you're just saying that because you want in my pants." He was only teasing and both men knew that. They both laughed as their gazes moved back up to the stars. "Jim, is this a date?" To be fair, Sherlock had never been on one, nor did he want to assume what this unreadable young man was thinking.

"Yes, I'd say it is at this point," Jim grinned at the way Sherlock rested his face into his shoulder. "Hm, does that mean we're dating?" Moriarty closed his eyes at the question, thinking a moment. "I dunno.. Not sure if I'm ready or want to.." Sherlock sighed it felt hot on the side Jim's neck, "I'm not sure how they would feel anyways.. I never did come out." Sherlock was already called a freak by colleagues, a machine by his best friend, and an idiot by his brother... He didn't want to add fag on the list until he was ready. "We could keep it a secret if that makes you more comfortable, I could be your secret, Sherlock." Holmes' grip tightened protectively around Moriarty, "and James, we don't need to call it dating if it raises any chances to your decision." Jim opened his eyes at that, he stared up at Sherlock with a smile, "how about we call it an experiment of sorts?" Sherlock sighed, that's exactly what he called being with Sebastian, but he _is_ a man of science. "Deal."

Jim grinned, "you'll be my favorite experiment." Sherlock smirked, "and you'll be my favorite little secret."

It was cold that night but the warmth of their bodies cuddled together made it not even a bit noticeable. Jim talked constantly about the view above, while Sherlock tried his best to listen and learn about this other boy's interests. In the end, when James explained astronomy, it suddenly became all very interesting. Maybe it was because he lit up with such excitement? Soon, their fingers would entwine as they sat on the field, and as the night would turn even later, soon to be morning, their breaths puffed out in little poofs of fog. Sherlock would learn that Jim shivers whenever the back of his neck was kissed, apparently he's victim to sensitive skin in certain areas. Sherlock wondered where the others might be, but only time would tell if he'd ever earn the ability to access them. (Though, he's more than happy to wait for James for as long as needed.) The two boys would soon pass out nuzzled together and ultimately spooning on the campus field. Staying warm together under Sherlock's coat throughout the night, illuminated under a blanket of stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time actually writing Moran in this fic! What did you think? I hope you enjoyed this!! Hahahaha ♡

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated and loved!! ♡


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